


( hell is empty )

by Ethereally



Category: Original Work
Genre: Background Character Death, Fluff, M/M, Taoist Afterlife Discussions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-10-19 07:35:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17597045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ethereally/pseuds/Ethereally
Summary: and all the devils are here.the chinese ghost month dawns upon us; the gates of hell crash open. rong and yan yin have thirty days to be a couple.there's no place warmer than it is six feet under, except for in Death's arms.





	( hell is empty )

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eidetic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eidetic/gifts).



Yan Yin is waiting on the couch when Kuan Rong gets home just past midnight. A smile spreads across Rong's face as he kicks off his dress shoes, placing them on the rack by his door; he removes his suit jacket and slings it on the back of the loveseat. "Welcome back," Rong says, strolling up to where Yan Yin is sitting and flopping down in the space next to him. 

He wraps his arms around Yan Yin, pulling him into a tight hug. "I had a feeling I'd see you here." 

Yan Yin scowls. "You could at least pretend to be surprised," he says, but he squeezes Rong back, so tightly Rong wonders if his spirit will drain from him. Yan Yin smells like charred paper and incense, with the faintest hint of freshly spritzed-on cologne; it's sweet that he made an effort, but he really didn't have to. Rong supposes that Yan Yin will scrub the scent of Hell off after a few Earthly showers, but he doesn't mind for now. Hell is familiar now, after the few times he's ventured there. A little scary, still, but like an abandoned gravesite you played in as a child. Yan Yin loosens his grip on Rong slightly, and Rong uses the opportunity to give him a brief, playful kiss on the lips. 

"It's the first day of the Ghost Month. I had a feeling that this would be your first stop." 

The gates to Hell open only once a year to allow the spirits of the dead to return to the land of the living. And while Yan Yin isn't necessarily dead, he still doesn't belong up here, and any time spent together is supposedly against the gods' will. Rong buries his head in the crook between Yan Yin's neck and shoulders, and Yan Yin's fingers tousle into his hair. 

If _this_ is against the gods' will, Rong would suggest they realign their priorities. 

"I missed you," Rong says. "You're so warm."

Yan Yin snorts. "There's no place warmer than six feet under, and I'm the son of the King of Hell. What do you expect?"

"Wrong. There's nowhere warmer than in your arms." Rong can feel Yan Yin flush, and a sense of triumph rushes through him. There's something particularly thrilling about making a living personification of death burn bright red-- he could get drunk on the power. Yan Yin pulls away from the hug, taking a second to compose himself before leaning in, giving Rong a soft kiss to the forehead. 

"Big wake, huh?" 

Rong groans. 

"You know it." 

Yan Yin smiles, cupping Rong's face with his soft fingers. "We got Cynthia's spirit a couple of days ago. I saw her age and where she died and went, damn, Rong's going to have a good time." 

"It wasn't that bad," Rong says. He presses himself closer to Yan Yin, inching into his boyfriend's lap. "She lived a good life, and deserved a worthy send-off." 

Yan Yin pulls a face. "Let me guess. You'll be gone for five days?"

"She's long-lived and dearly beloved, so yeah."

Yan Yin rolls his eyes. "Ugh. Your human rites are so long. Isn't three days enough for you?" 

Rong laughs, flicking Yan Yin's nose with his index finger. "You're just jealous cause she's taking away our time! Leave her alone. It's not like she decided to die this week just to spite us." There aren't a lot of Chinese undertakers despite how densely populated Arcadia is, and even fewer who will conduct Taoist rites. Cynthia Chu, director of the Arcadia High School board and founder of Chu SAT Prep Center, had passed away after eighty-eight years of life, and had requested a funeral like she would have had back home in Taipei. Five days of outpoured love from people all around town, with bouquets upon bouquets and circlets of flowers, and not a single dry eye in the house. Cynthia deserves it, of course, for making such a mark on the town, but damn if Rong isn't exhausted, and a little sad about the timing, of course. But it could be a lot worse. 

He'll get to leave work and return to a home with its lights on. For the next month of so, Rong will open the door, the A/C will be blasting and there will be a half-eaten Domino's pizza in the oven, and Yan Yin will be waiting inside-- likely sitting on the couch, catching up on all the Netflix and anime he's missed since the last time he was on Earth. They'll kiss and then bicker, maybe go out for hotpot if it isn't too late. Rong smiles. The flickering flames of Hell can't make him feel any warmer than this. He laces his fingers into Yan Yin's, giving his lover's hand a squeeze.

As older Arcadians pass on, the younger generations seem to have rejected Taoist tradition, instead looking towards Christianity as a guiding light. The business of death is dying. The irony of that isn't lost on Rong at all. Perhaps it would have bothered him more when he was younger; the idea that his life's work would soon vanish, going out in a trickle instead of a spark. There are more lives to celebrate, more people who were loved, more stories to tell out there, and baby Rong would have hated knowing that! He pulls Yan Yin in closer, clasping their lips together in a deep, languid embrace. 

He knows better now, after all. A person's legacy means more than just a lifetime of work, and death can never truly claim you if you've left a mark behind. Being with Yan Yin has shown Rong that you weave your own narrative through the people you love. What others will remember about you is not what you do or what you've achieved, but how you made them feel: and Rong can only hope that he's given Yan Yin half the happiness that he's received in return. Yan Yin slips a hand underneath Rong's shirt, and Rong smiles into the kiss, wrapping an arm around Yan Yin's waist, deepening their connection.

Some day, Rong will die and reincarnate. He isn't sure if he'll remember Yan Yin, or if this particular lifetime will truly matter in the grand scheme of things. Yan Yin will have to find his way to Rong after all this is over, but Rong knows he will. 

Love is the greatest mark of immortality there can ever be.

**Author's Note:**

> special thanks to N, C, I, S, R, RA and K for proofreading this -- this went through many pairs of eyes before i felt okay submitting it. and the biggest thank you to L, who helped shape these characters and this world with me.


End file.
